Miss Wizarding World
by swirly
Summary: Our all-grown-up trio learn of a planned attack at the Muggle "Miss World" finale. Can our reluctant undercover agent pull it off as a convincing "Miss England" before it's too late?


**Miss (Wizarding) World  
**  
Prologue  
  
**February 19th, 2000  
**  
_Our story begins in a disused warehouse situated on the outskirts of a remote village in New Zealand. Four cloaked figures are hunched around a dying fire. The weather at this particular time is so very typical of the weather in one of those Muggle horror films: the rain is cascading down the windows in buckets and the wind is howling like a thousand dogs in excruciating pain. But the ghastly events which usually accompany this style of weather in the movies are only just about to be planned . . .  
_  
As a clock chimed midnight, the only female of the group leant closer to the fire and held her hands out towards it until they appeared to nearly touch the rapidly-shrinking flames. These once-beautiful hands were now cut, scarred and bruised - not entirely different from her face. The woman gave a snort of frustration as the last flame spluttered and died, leaving her hands warmed only by glowing embers. 'Just one spell we need, Lucius,' Her voice was raspy. 'One spell and we won't have to bother with these diabolical Muggle methods any more.'  
  
The man named Lucius glared at her. He, too, was cut and bruised, and he gingerly rubbed a spot on his arm as he answered. 'Bellatrix, in case you weren't aware of it, our master was destroyed two days ago.' He paused, appearing to enjoy the effect his sarcasm was having on her. 'The Ministry is out looking for us. And seeing as we were the only Death Eaters to escape, they want our blood. Our wand tracks will be scrutinized. But if you're willing to spend the rest of your life staring at an Azkaban cell wall in return for some luxury _warmth_ right now, you go for it. But we won't be sticking around to join you, will we, boys?' There was a murmur of agreement from the other two men.  
  
'I - I will not be spoken to like that!' said Bellatrix shrilly, 'I have just lost my husband thanks to the Aurors, and my master, I don't need-'  
  
'Spare us the sob talk, Lestrange. We've heard it enough.' It was Dolohov who spoke this time. 'What I want to know is _how_. How did the Potter boy - I refuse to call him a man - how did that - that nineteen year-old filthy half-blood triumph over our Dark Lord? It's preposterous.'  
  
'It was in the wands, Dolohov,' said Lucius heavily. 'The wands shared the same core. I knew nothing of this before, although we all had our suspicions when their wands connected that year at the Triwizard, when Master tricked Potter into coming to the graveyard, you all remember?' The others nodded. 'But the boy obviously knew about the shared core. He must have broken the connection during the battle by destroying both the wands. I suppose that would have made Master human enough to die. I don't know how he did it. That mad old coot must have told him-'  
  
'If I ever get the chance, he's the first one I'll be bumping off,' growled a man who was squatting against the warehouse wall. His face was half hidden by shadows until a bolt of lightning temporarily lit up his sullen, dirty features. 'Albus-bloody-Dumbledore.'  
  
'Alright Macnair,' said Bellatrix, snorting again. 'If I ever find out a way of strolling into Hogwarts to casually dispose of its headmaster, I'll let you know,'  
  
Macnair sneered at her before straightening up and heading for the warehouse door. 'I've had enough of this stupid chitchat,' he said abruptly. 'I'm going to look for some more sticks or something to burn on the fire. I'm bloody freezing.' The door slammed shut and the rest of the Death Eaters looked at each other.  
  
'He had better not be seen,' said Bellatrix. No one answered her. The three of them sat, staring morosely at their pathetic remains of a fire, thinking of the way life could have been. Power ... extravagant rewards from the Dark Lord ... a world of rapidly decreasing Muggles and half-bloods ... yet here they were, still on the run, their master dead.  
  
Lucius's voice cut through the silence. 'How is he expecting to find dry wood to burn when it's pouring with rain outside?'  
  
Right on cue, the door banged open and a drenched Macnair marched in. He appeared to be holding a pile of newspapers and his mouth was curled into a leering smile as he strode back over to the rest of the group. They knew that smile. The bloodthirsty Macnair only smiled like that when he had just killed, or was about to kill. Instinctively, they all drew away from him. He stopped in front of them, panting. Apparently feeling somewhat bold, Dolohov said, 'Why are you holding those Muggle rags, Macnair?'  
  
Macnair leered as he answered. 'I found them dumped in a bus shelter, all nice and dry so we could burn them,' His voice rose gleefully: 'and look what's happening soon!' He threw the papers down and they all leaned forward to look at the topmost one. The front page was almost completely taken up by a photograph of a dark-haired, beautiful girl smiling brilliantly up at them. Bellatrix found herself waiting for the girl to blink before remembering that it was a Muggle paper. She focused on the headline:  
  
**'MISS WORLD' TO BE HELD IN LONDON THIS YEAR  
**  
Bellatrix looked up to see Dolohov smirking at Macnair. 'Thinking of auditioning, then?' Macnair glowered at him and motioned for them to read on.  
  
_The finale for the widely acclaimed 'Miss World' beauty pageant will be taking place in London, England in two months' time. One beauty from nearly every country worldwide will sing, dance, pose and do whatever it takes to win the much sought-after status of 'Miss World'. _

_Meanwhile, 'Miss England' has already been chosen and a reliable source has **exclusively** revealed to us that our young lady's identity will be revealed in about a week's time.  
As well as the twenty-five thousand-strong public crowd gathering in Islington stadium for the final showdown, many celebrities are expected to be there and there are rumours that even several members of the royal family will attend.  
Last year's winner, 'Miss India' (Jayanti Neela, pictured above) says, 'The experience was truly amazing. I'll be sorry to see my crown go but I'm sure the girls will find the finale just as much fun ..._'  
  
Her sickening gushes continued onto the next page.  
  
'What is the relevance of this?' asked Bellatrix frostily. 'What do you care about Mudblood bimbos showing off their legs and strutting about?'  
  
Macnair slowly leaned down until his eyes were level with hers. Close to, she could see a spark of madness dancing behind the icy-blue irises. She blinked. 'Think, Lestrange,' he breathed, 'Think. Thousands of Muggles ... well known ones too ... and royal family members. If that snivelling little Peter Pettigrew can blast apart a whole street of them, then surely _four_ of us could do a stadium,' He grinned manically. 'I need fresh blood, Lestrange. I need to kill.'  
  
Bellatrix stared into his eyes for precisely two more seconds, then tore them away to round on Dolohov and Malfoy. 'Well?' she demanded. 'What do you make of this?'  
  
Lucius appeared to be in deep thought. 'Two months. Two months. We could get it planned out by then ...' Dolohov was nodding. 'I'm for it.'  
  
'Are you mad?' shrieked Bellatrix. 'Are you all mad? You do realise we'll get caught and thrown into Azkaban? I assume you are going to use your wands to carry out the killings, and Lucius, did you not just kindly remind me that they are being tracked?'  
  
A second's silence. Then-  
  
'Bellatrix, what is there left to live for?' exploded Lucius. 'We have no master. We cannot use magic. We can stay on the run but there's no doubt we will be caught as more and more meddling Muggles catch sight of us! I would rather die, Bellatrix, die with the Mudbloods, than go back to that prison!'  
  
'Plus,' said Macnair, grinning trollishly, 'we'll go out with a bang. A really big one,'  
  
'I hope you're not turning into a Muggle-lover, Lestrange,' Dolohov was staring at her suspiciously. 'You seem mighty reluctant about all of this.'  
  
Bellatrix felt a huge prickle of indignant anger. 'Muggle-lover, nothing!' she spat. 'I just don't have the overwhelming urge to blast myself apart with my own wand like the rest of you seem to!'  
  
'You don't have to come, then. You can stay here and rot,' snarled Dolohov. 'To London, then, for checking out the area, making preparations?' he added to Lucius and Macnair lightly. They nodded, already thinking about the deed and smirking horribly at Bellatrix, before Disapparating before her very eyes.  
  
She stared at the space where they had stood. Did she really want a part in this? Did she _really_? But then she thought of her husband, killed by the Aurors, and a wave of molten fury swept through her. Clenching her fists, she muttered, 'Hold on, boys. I'm coming too,' and swiftly Disapparated, hoping against hope that no one in the vicinity had noticed their presence over the last couple of days.  
  
And seconds after she had gone, the Animigi Skeeter crawled out from behind a crate in her beetle form. Well, well, well. This _would_ be an interesting one to report back to office.

* * *

A/N: I'm pretty sure there is no Islington Stadium. While I want to keep this as real as possible by using actual place names, a bunch of people plotting to attack, say, Wembley stadium is a little _too_ real. ::shudders::  
  
Please take a few moments to review! I both welcome and take into account constructive criticism. :) 


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